


The Eye of Neith

by Emma



Series: The Homecoming Universe [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-18
Updated: 2010-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this AU, this story comes right after <em>Homecoming</em>. It's the beginning of the end of "normal" for Ianto Jones, as Gallifrey's past and Ianto's future collide when Ianto's former lover arrives in Cardiff asking for help…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ianto sniffed critically at the bubbling sauce. Perhaps more oregano, he thought, dipping a small piece of bread in the rich tomato concoction and popping it in his mouth. Nope; not oregano. Pepper, a little later, when he sprinkled the whole thing with cheese. The linguini was in the warming drawer, liberally dosed with olive oil to prevent it from sticking, there was a beautiful green salad in the fridge and fresh crusty bread on the table. Everything was perfect.

 

He poured himself a glass of wine and sambaed over to the big, American style entertainment center Jack had insisted they purchase to hold their gigantic joint music collection. He popped one of Jack's favorites into the player, a compilation of old-fashioned, down-and-dirty Memphis blues -- and wouldn't a lot of people who thought they knew Jack be surprised -- then started a slow circuit around the room straightening out things here and there. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of it all hit him and he succumbed to chuckles that rapidly escalated into raucous whoops. He put the wine glass down before he spilled any of the lovely, expensive cabernet. _Ianto Jones, you are doing the domestic thing, with Captain Jack fucking Harkness, no less. And loving every fucking minute of it_.

 

He looked around the huge open room, with its bank of French doors leading to a wide balcony facing the bay. Solid, comfortable furniture on a scale to match, large prints of his own work on the walls, family snapshots on tables and shelves, a few really valuable things Jack had picked up over the years _(Baccarat candlesticks, for God's sake_ ), and books piled haphazardly everywhere. Martha and Gwen had added a few bright cushions and knick-knacks. Otherwise, they claimed, the place would reek unbearably of testosterone. Nobody argued with them; even John, who would take the piss out of the Devil on general principles, kept his tongue prudently trapped behind his teeth on that one. Jack and Ianto had just beamed and accepted the gifts in the incorrigibly romantic spirit in which they had been given, and found places for them all.

 

The sound of his cell phone startled him out of his pleasant contemplation. He flipped it open -- Jack, the bastard, had snickered _how Star Trek_ when he first saw it -- and answered.

 

"Hello, gorgeous Jenny."

The growl at the other end would have honored a Siberian tiger. "How 'cha know it was me?"

 

"Because," Ianto chuckled, "you are the only New York literary agent I know who can't understand transatlantic time differences."

 

"Smartass. So did I disturb you and that gorgeous man of yours?"

 

"My gorgeous man should be home any minute, Jenny, so…" he took a sip of wine. "Tell me you're calling me just to stroke my ego."

 

"Sales are excellent, kiddo, I'll give you that. First coffee-table photo book in years that's landed on the Times bestseller list."

 

"My bank account will be very pleased."

 

"So will mine, kiddo. You've upped my asking price by five percent in six years. But that's not why I called. It's Tregarth. He still wants you for the Mexican dig."

 

"No," Ianto said flatly. "He's a jerk. Treats his staff like crap and thinks screaming makes up for his shortcomings as an archaeologist. Add that to the July and August heat in Quintana Roo… No."

 

"He's offering top dollar personally and a release on any unrelated stuff."

 

"He could offer the moon and a sack of silver galleons for all I care. No deal." The massively overdone sigh at the other end made him grin. "Besides, you are going to make a bundle on Mythical Wales and you know it."

 

"True," she said, switching moods in the blink of an eye. "I'll deal with the asshole. Give the hunk an extra kiss for me."

 

Men neatly slotted into categories and business handled, Jenny rang off. Ianto checked his watch; Rift permitting, Jack would be home soon. He decided to take a chance and finish preparations for dinner.

 

He was grating cheese over the pasta when he heard the scraping of the key on the lock. He filled a wine glass and went to stand by the door. He loved to watch Jack's eyes when he realized Ianto was already home waiting for him; pleasure, always a little surprised as if Jack couldn't yet believe in his presence, and then a slow build up of desire until the pupils grew impossibly big and dark…

 

"Hey." Jack walked in carrying a white box from Ianto's favorite Italian bakery. "Got dessert."

 

"How domestic of us." Ianto quipped. "I was making dinner and straightening up earlier."

 

"Yeah?" Jack's grin grew wider and definitely more lascivious. "If I remember correctly, you're supposed me to greet me with a kiss."

 

"Am I?"

 

"Tradition, right out of the domestic manual. I'm sure of it."

 

"In that case…" Ianto leaned in and pressed his lips to Jack's. Soft-rough texture, firm but yielding, moist as they opened to let his tongue in. His free hand came up to cup Jack's neck as he deepened the kiss. At the same time Jack's free hand grabbed Ianto's arse to bring their crotches together. If the… hard evidence… was any indication, they had a good chance of ending up eating cold pasta at three in the morning. Again.

 

"Whoa, Jack. Down, boy." Ianto grabbed the bakery box and moved out of Jack's reach. "Dinner first. Everything else later."

 

"Everything?" asked Jack in his best naughty voice.

 

"Everything your heart desires." When it came to naughty, Ianto was sure he could match Jack syllable for syllable. "And then some, Captain."

 

He walked back to the kitchen area, leaving Jack to deal with coat, boots, and socks. They both loved to pad barefoot around the house, even though their feet got cold. Often they ended up the evening watching telly stretched out on the couch, rubbing their feet together under Jack's antique carriage throw to keep warm.

 

"Something smells delicious," Jack called out as he hung up his coat. "What did you decide on?"

 

"Pasta alla puttanesca. Spicy, with anchovies, capers, and red pepper flakes."

 

"Does that name mean what I think it means?"

 

"Yep.Tradition has it that the Neapolitan ladies of the evening would put pots of this on their window sills to lure the men into the bordellos."

 

"It would lure me." Jack gave an appreciative sniff as he peered into the pot over Ianto's shoulder. "Suddenly I'm starved."

 

"Good. Sit down and start on the salad while I dish these up. Anything interesting happen?"

 

"Not much, other than a bunch of Chrysallians looking for a suitable place to pupate. We pointed them to that little island off Japan… Thanks."

 

Ianto pressed a quick kiss to Jack's fingers, then sat down and reached for the bread. "Amakusa? That's still working out, then?"

 

"Sure. God this is delicious." Jack savoured his first bite of pasta. "It's a win-win-win situation. The Chrysallians get a nice, safe place to pupate, the silk farmers get top quality thread, and Earth gets good-neighbor points."

 

"It's amazing someone hasn't tried to sell the story to the tabloids."

 

Jack grinned wolfishly. "One of the farmers tried, a few years ago. We made an example of him. By the time we were done, he was lucky to stay out of a mental institution."

 

"So can I…" Ianto swore as his phone rang. "Sorry. Forgot to turn it off."

 

Jack waved away the apology. Ianto looked at the number, and his eyebrows rose to near his hairline. He flipped the phone open.

 

"Bella? Come stai, mia cara?" The torrent of Italian at the other end stunned him. "Bella? Bella? Calm down. What's wrong?...What?!... Yes, of course. We'll be waiting."

 

He set down the phone and looked at Jack, who had been listening to the one-sided conversation while he ate.

 

"That was Isabella Branciforte."

 

"Ah, yes. Your Venetian landlady."

 

They had talked and talked, in the first few months after Ianto's return. Jack had told him of his past as a time agent, of his frustration about not being able to remember more, of his travels with the Doctor, of his fears of abandonment. Ianto had told Jack of his apprenticeship with a temperamental Venetian photographer, of his first professional sale, of the night terrors that had driven him to walk the streets for hours and had resulted in some of his best work, of all the people who had reached out to help him along.

 

And, of course, Jack being Jack and the Universe being perverse, of all his benefactors it would be Isabella who turned up on his doorstep. Isabella Branciforte, Egyptologist, professor of archaeology at a number of top flight Universities, aristocrat with a pedigree as long as the Taff… and Ianto's first lover after Jack. The woman who had taken him to her bed and completed what Ianto thought of privately as his sexual education.

 

"Is she ok?" Ianto looked quizzically at Jack, who pointed at the phone. "I couldn't make out the words, but whatever it was sounded intense."

"She's all right, but… Jack, she says someone is trying to kill her."


	2. Chapter 2

Jack sat comfortably ensconced in a corner of his favorite sofa, watching Ianto show Isabella Branciforte around the flat. It was…educational…to see Ianto with someone from his past. Once upon a time, Ianto would have changed himself to fit the circumstances. Now, it was all one seamless thing, a personality, not a persona. Ianto was Ianto, and Jack realized he was falling in love all over again, more, deeper, differently, with this man.

 

He wondered exactly what had brought Isabella Branciforte to Cardiff.

 

Unlike Ianto, Jack was not ready to accept the lady at face value. Over the years, Jack had cultivated the reputation of being what the Victorians had called a 'man of action'. He knew exactly the impression he made when he barged in past police barricades, coat swinging dramatically, keeping the focus on himself rather than on his people and their often inexplicable equipment. He could measure to the last milligram how much obnoxious brashness would push some UNIT martinet into revealing more than he wanted to, the same way he could judge the exact combination of boyish charm and lethal force that would imprint in witnesses' brains the image he wanted them to remember. Few people realized there was something underneath the façade, and fewer still wanted to take the chance of looking.

 

Until this evening, Jack would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that there was only one being in the Universe who could see past the façade as if it wasn't there.

 

Isabella Branciforte was terrifying. Not that you could tell by her appearance: she looked to be in her mid-forties (Jack, from vast experience, added maybe a half-dozen more years), petite, curvy in that Sophia Loren sort of way that would make males of most sentient species sit up and beg, lovely dark hair gathered into a classic chignon, and an amazingly kissable mouth. It wasn't the personality, either. The lady was charming, amusing, witty, all those things he had expected from Ianto's description.

 

It was the eyes. Deep, so dark that the pupils disappeared into the irises, and full of secrets and knowledge.

 

Isabella Branciforte had the eyes of a Time Lord.

 

Jack grinned. He had loved a Time Lord (or two, depending on how you counted), had survived another, and had briefly met a third. He had rescued a TARDIS from captivity and slept in her embrace. He was over two thousand years old, and his time of worshipping or fearing Time Lords was long past. _Bring it on, lady. This time I'm fighting_.

 

"A wise man once said that a man that laughs when he is alone is sharing a joke with either God or the Devil." The smooth contralto, with its perfect BBC diction softened by an Italian drawl, was one of the sexiest things Jack had ever heard. "Which is it with you, Captain Harkness?"

 

He raised his wineglass to her mockingly. "Jack, please. And that's a very limiting dichotomy. Sometimes, one is just remembering the past and making decisions about the future."

 

"Ah. And your decisions merit laughter?"

 

"Often, professora Branciforte. Often." He gave her his best Jack-is-thinking-of-storming-the-gates-of-hell smile. "A little more wine?"

 

"Isabella, please. Yes, that would be lovely."

 

"Excuse me." Ianto's tone could have frozen a nuclear explosion in mid-blow. "If we are quite finished with the pissing contest, I would like to know exactly what is going on."

 

Jack winced. Ianto's talent for cutting through the bullshit had only improved with age. He was amused to realize that Isabella was wearing a female version of his own sheepish expression.

 

"Sorry, Ianto." It came out _yaantu_ , Jack noticed, in a very bedroomy and possessive tone. The lady was not finished yet, by a long shot. "My apologies, Jack."

 

"Same here. Ianto's right. We should be concentrating on your problem."

 

Ianto pointed at one of the two leather club chairs flanking the fireplace. "Bella. Sit. No, don't open your mouth. Yet."

 

He sat down next to Jack, and Jack made a desperate effort to keep the triumph from showing.

 

"Ianto…"

 

"No. You're a Venetian, and Venetians can talk the hind legs off a pace of donkeys and never say a blessed thing, especially when they are trying to avoid the subject, and you, Bella cara, are trying to avoid the subject. I am going to ask questions and you are going to answer them as if you were a Denbigh farmer dealing with Inland Revenue." He grinned at her raised eyebrows. "Short and to the point. First. What are you doing in Cardiff?"

 

"I was asked by Alexander Davies to authenticate a new purchase."

 

"The frozen butty king?" Jack asked.

 

"Yes. We met at Cambridge. He was studying Archaeology also, but his father died suddenly and left an unholy mess behind. The money was all gone. Alex had to quit school and figure out a way to support his family. When he was in a position to do so, he started collecting."

 

"As far as you know, was the acquisition legal?"

 

"Alex is the kind of collector archaeologists love. Ethical and generous. He has funded several of my digs and there were never any irregularities." She looked troubled. "Still, I can't figure out how he got his hands on this."

 

"On what?" Ianto growled as Isabella's eyes flickered to Jack. "Bella, Jack is my partner, and he was once my boss, and I've trusted him with my life more times than I can count. If you can't deal with us…"

 

"No! It's… not that." She looked at Jack directly. "When I found out Ianto was back here, I did a little investigating. You are some sort of government agent."

 

"Not the kind that would go after your friend for illegal trading in artifacts.' Jack said. "Not this kind of artifact, anyway."

 

"Very well." She nodded, satisfied. "It's the Eye of Neith."

 

"Bella!"

 

"I know, I know, but Alexander sent photos, including some very clear close-ups. If it is not authentic, then someone has gone to a lot of time and trouble. More than it's usual with forgers."

 

"Neith is an Egyptian goddess, right?" Jack smirked at the shocked looks sent his way. "What? I don't sleep much. I've got a lot of time to read."

 

"I don't think it's wise to underestimate you, Jack," said Isabella. "Indeed, Neith is one of the oldest and most powerful goddesses. In some of the oldest records she is addressed as the mother and father of creation. She is variously described as the mother of Ra the sun god and Sobek the crocodile god, and as the protector of Osiris. Her emblem appears in the name of several queens of the first dynasty."

 

"And this Eye thing?"

 

"There is an obscure legend that says Neith gave pharaoh Menes a pectoral made out of pure silver, shaped like an eye. It was supposed to give the pharaohs the ability to see into the future. At least that's what we think the phrase means." She shrugged. "It translates literally as 'mind travel'. It was meant to be kept away from commoners' eyes. Only a select group of Neith's priests could handle it and only the pharaohs could wear it."

 

"It's considered the Egyptian equivalent of the Holy Grail, and with about as much acceptance in serious archaeological circles," said Ianto.

 

"And you think someone is trying to kill you because of it?"

 

"I don't know what else it could be! I'm in a competitive field, Jack, and once in a while we threaten to kill each other, but the weapons of choice are usually sarcastic comments in the letters section of peer-reviewed journals." She tossed back the last of her wine. "All I know is, two days after I told Alex I was on my way to Cardiff, someone carved a nice big hole on the stern of my motorboat. Then, someone tried to push me in front of the train at the Rusell Square station in London."

 

"Could either one have been an accident?"

 

"No. The motorboat had just been serviced; I live in Venice, these things are carefully managed. I felt hands on my shoulder blades before I stumbled in the train station. If it had not been for some nice boys that pulled me back you would have been attending my funeral."

 

"Ok, then. We assume there's someone who really would prefer that you don't get too close to the Eye of Neith. If it's a fake, it's more likely the forger. If it's real…"

 

"If it's real," Ianto said, "all bets are off. The Eye of Neith would have all the vultures swooping in. When are you supposed to meet with Davies?"

 

"Tomorrow morning."

 

Jack and Ianto traded a brief look.

 

"You'll stay tonight in our guest room," Ianto said. "We'll go with you tomorrow to the meeting."

 

"Or you could just call it a day," Jack murmured. "And go back to Venice."

 

Isabella looked down her nose at him. "Do you really think I would do that?"

 

Jack laughed.

 

"I would have been greatly disappointed if you had." He stood up, stretching. "I'm off to bed and leave you to catch up. See you tomorrow."

 

After a quick shower, Jack searched through Ianto's half of the bedroom bookcase until he found what he expected to find, then, stripping off his towel, settled down to read in bed. About forty minutes later Ianto walked in.

 

" _Feminine Power in the Egyptian Pantheon_. Bella would be pleased."

 

"I figured you would have copies of her work."

 

Ianto walked into the bathroom, then reemerged a little later as bare-assed as Jack was.

 

"Hello, gorgeous." Jack set the book aside and pulled up the duvet enticingly. "Come here."

 

Ianto slid into bed and wrapped his arms around Jack's chest. "Now I know why you were so set on this place."

 

Jack, who was happily engaged in placing a string of nipping kisses from Ianto's neck to his shoulder, only replied with an inquiring _mmmm?_

 

'The guest room is on the other side of the flat."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well," Jack said mildly. "That can't be good."

 

Ianto nodded. In the passenger seat beside him, Isabella gave a muted little bleat of distress before settling back into her usual imperturbable self. One thing to be said for aristocratic ladies of Bella's stamp; what must be faced was faced without dramatics.

 

They had left Cardiff early in the morning. Alexander Davies's house was a converted farm house a few miles outside the city. The property was hidden from the main road by a tall hedge that had been allowed to grow wild, and the access road wound through mature woodlands. It wasn't until the sturdy collection of stone buildings clustered around a central courtyard came into view that they realized something out of the ordinary was happening.

 

The place was crawling with police.

 

Ianto maneuvered the SUV through the parked sedans. Even through he wasn't driving the hulking Torchwood monster, the sight of Jack in the back seat drew some sullen looks and a flurry of calls on police radios.

 

"There's a small parking area by the old stables…"Isabella pointed. "There."

 

Ianto parked the car. They got out and Jack and Ianto followed Isabella to the front steps of the main house, all three ignoring the mutters wafting their way. The door swung open even before they had a chance to ring the doorbell.

 

"Harkness. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

 

The man blocking the entrance was big and beefy, with violent red hair and obviously a temper to match. He was so much a caricature of an American film cop -- a caricature of a caricature -- that Ianto found it hard to keep a straight face.

 

Before Jack could say anything, Isabella stepped in. "I am professor Branciforte. I have an appointment with Mr. Davies. These gentlemen are with me." She brushed past the gawping policeman. "Please inform Mrs. Bolton that we have arrived."

 

Ianto was familiar with Isabella's ability to short-circuit the thinking processes of officious bureaucrats, but he was amused by Jack's reaction.

 

"Wow."

 

"She tangles with Egyptian Antiquities Council officials for a living," Ianto murmured. "A Cardiff cop is a babe in arms by comparison."

 

Isabella looked at the policeman. "Mrs. Bolton. At once, please."

 

They watched with barely concealed amusement as the hapless man tromped away down the back corridor.

 

"Good God," Isabella giggled. "Where did they find him? Central casting?"

 

"London," said Jack. "He's actually quite a good cop, but he can't handle much out of the ordinary."

 

"And you like to drive him crazy?"

 

Jack shrugged. "Passes the time."

 

Ianto heard the sharp rap of heels on stone as a woman emerged from the doors at the end of the passage. She was tall and spare, and looked to be in her fifties. She waved her arms wildly as she moved, keeping up a running commentary on all things unsuitable, mainly, it seemed, the Cardiff police.

 

"Honestly, the man is daft. As if we kept a list of cat burglars just in case, I ask you! And I'm going to have to talk to Mrs. Williams about the eggs, not the right quality at all, and all those policemen trampling through the daffodil beds, I ask you…" She seemed to run out of steam as she reached them. "Professor Banciforte. So nice to see you again."

 

"And you, Mrs. Bolton. Is everything all right?"

 

"Someone tried to break in last night, can you imagine? They didn't get anywhere, of course, not with all the alarms and sensors and whatnots but it's really unsettling for poor Mr. Davies… Well, no matter. You are here and that will make him feel much better, I'm sure." She cast a look in Jack and Ianto's direction. "And these gentlemen are…"

 

"Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am," said Jack, capturing one of her hands in mid-flight and raising it to his lips. 'It's a pleasure."

 

"Jack," warned Isabella.

 

"What? I was just saying hello!"

 

"I don't mind, professor." Mrs. Bolton's cheeks had shaded a delightful pink.

 

"And this is Mr. Jones."

 

"Pleasure, I'm sure, sir. Mr. Davies is waiting for you in his office. This way."

 

They followed her down a second passageway. Ianto kept looking around, wondering what kind of collector Alexander Davies was. Usually, collectors displayed their treasures -- the legal ones anyway -- for the admiration of visitors. They got a charge out of the admiration and envy of competitors. The Davies house was different. It was the most resolutely Welsh house Ianto had ever seen. From furniture to paintings, vases to rugs, it was all top quality local craft. There was no sign that a world-famous collector lived there.

 

He got his answers as Mrs. Bolton ushered them into the study. Windowless, the four walls were lined with shelves filled with books and artifacts. The desk was piled high with papers. In his own way Davies was a scholar, not just a collector.

 

"Bella." The man himself stood to meet them. "Welcome. Coffee? Tea? No? Mrs. Bolton, that will be all, thank you."

 

He ushered them to a small sitting area in an alcove. "Please sit down. And what does Torchwood want with me?"

 

Jack groaned. "I'm going to have to take the name off the SUV."

 

Davies roared. He was a huge man in every sense of the word: body, voice, gestures. "Too late, captain Harkness. Torchwood is as much a part of Cardiff as the Millennium Centre. But why are you here?"

 

"Jack and Ianto are here as my friends, Alex," said Bella. "There's been two attempts on my life in the past six weeks. They are serving as bodyguards."

 

Davies cursed. "I was afraid of that. I've gotten several very nasty phone calls, and last night someone tried to break in."

 

"Alex, how did you get the Eye?"

 

"Someone called and said it was for sale. Usually I don't listen to that sort of proposal but Bella, he showed it to me! I thought, if there's a chance it's real… it was stupid, I know, but I said yes. He wasn't even asking for much, but he said he just wanted to get the hell away."

 

"How much did he want?"

 

"A hundred thousand. We made the exchange in London and I brought the Eye here." He walked to one of the shelves and retrieved a large velvet-covered box. "If it's the real thing, I'll arrange to have it returned to Egypt. It belongs there."

 

He placed the box on the coffee table in front of them. The box was big, maybe two feet to the side, Ianto estimated. A cartouche containing a Pharaoh's crown and two crossed arrows was embroidered in gold thread on the velvet. Davies opened the box to reveal another box, this one of plain cedar wood coated with a protective resin. Inside that box there was a papyrus bundle. Davies removed it from the box and set it on the table next to it. Once unfolded, the papyrus revealed a second bundle, this one made of funerary linen bands.

 

Ianto realized that he was holding his breath. Jack and Bella were both leaning forward, staring at Davies's hands as he reverently folded back the bands to display the object underneath.

 

The pectoral gleamed cold silver in the artificial light. The central eye was supported on either side by bas-relief plaques showing the goddess, both wearing a Pharaoh's crown, one holding a cobra, the other a pair of arrows. Both were standing on the backs of crocodiles. The eye itself was inlaid with two red disks. The inner one, representing the pupil, was blood-dark; the outer one, the iris, was much lighter and studded with thousands of gold flecks. Red stones also made up the goddesses' eyes and were inset in small plaques decorating the thick chain holding the pectoral.

 

"Oh my god."

 

The shock in Jack's voice had Ianto's head whipping around. Jack's face was bloodless, and his hand shook as he extended it to touch the silvery metal. The moment he touched it he snatched his hand back, shivering as he rubbed his fingers against his trousers.

 

"Jack? What's wrong?"

 

Jack touched Ianto's hand, fingers moving rapidly; their old private signal that would seem a simple gesture of affection to an observer.

 

"Jack," Bella asked, "you seem to recognize this?"

 

"Not the pectoral." Jack took a deep breath. "The metal. It's very rare."

 

"I'll say." Davies nodded. "It's neither gold nor silver, or any combination of them that I can identify. Every test I did came back negative."

 

"It's unlikely that there's a test for it," Jack said. "I've only seen it once before. It has some very peculiar properties."

 

"It looks cold," Ianto said. "The stones, though… they are beautiful."

 

He reached out and brushed his fingers across the pupil stone. Force slammed him back as it poured through his hand. It seized his consciousness, pulling him along for millennia and light years, past a place of burnt orange skies and bright silver trees, where a second sun rose in the south and made snow-capped mountains gleam… and past that, to a place that was everywhere and nowhere, where a Great Purpose fashioned Her tools, Her weapons, Her children-soldiers that would fight for the hopes of all beings against the great darkness: the Eternal Storm and the Immortal with Two Futures … and past that, into the heart of Time itself where mortals were not supposed to thread … and for a moment he glimpsed endings and beginnings too immense to comprehend.

 

 _*Go back, child. The time of passing is not yet*_

 

And he plummeted back into his own body to see Jack, Bella, and Davies looking at him in horror, and he clung to Jack's arms as everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack watched Ianto demolish his fifth scone. His usually fastidious partner was wolfing down everything in sight with the abandon of a six-year-old. Ianto had come out of his faint clear-headed but starved to the point of shaking. Davies had requested Mrs. Bolton to provide some food as fast as possible; the housekeeper had rolled in a packed tea trolley in less than ten minutes.

 

"I was keeping myself busy with a bit of baking, you see," she said, waving away Jack and Ianto's thanks, "so it was just heating up water for tea. Just ring if you need anything else."

 

Jack was not happy with the turn of events. Ianto had returned to Cardiff but not to Torchwood. He socialized with the team and had been recruited by Rhys and Tom into their not-so-ironically named Torchwood Spouses Mutual Aid Society and Rugby Association. He had become the go-to uncle for all their kids, especially Martha's oldest, Addy, who wanted to be an artist. But Ianto's present life had nothing to do with weevils, Rift blowouts, or Time Lords. _Except that Time Lord business may have come looking for him. Dammit_.

 

"This is more than just an Egyptian relic, isn't it? " Davies sat back with an unhappy sight. "Are you going to confiscate it?"

 

"Alex!" Isabella all but screamed. "You're just going to give it up?"

 

"Bella, my dear, we've landed in the middle of Torchwood business. Captain Harkness can pretty much do anything he wants."

 

Bella glared at Jack. "So you have the right to steal it?"

 

"Bella, stop it!" snapped Ianto.

 

Jack touched Ianto's wrist in reassurance then turned to face the other two. "Right now I'm going to do nothing. Ianto and I are both affected by it. Mr. Davies isn't, so we will leave it with him while we return to Cardiff and pick up some equipment. I'm assuming this room is secure."

 

"Like a fortress." Davies said. "I have a number of very valuable items other than the Eye."

 

"Good. I'll ask Inspector Beckwith to leave a guard on the grounds until we get back."

 

"I'll stay with Alex," Bella said.

 

"No, you won't," Jack said flatly. "We'll need to pick your brains for more information. Besides, you seem to be as much a target as Mr. Davies. Putting the two of you and the Eye in one place is asking for trouble." He turned to Davies. "What can you tell us about the seller?"

 

"Nothing much. I don't know why he picked me. There are others more receptive to illegal offers, but he seemed to know of me. Very young and slender, a boy really, with red hair and green eyes. Wore a crossed-arrows earring, left ear. Seemed very scared."

 

Bella gasped. All three men looked at her.

 

"Do you know him?" Jack asked.

 

"What? No! No. I was just… thinking."

 

Jack traded a look with Ianto, who shook his head imperceptibly. "All right. We'll go to Cardiff, get some people working on research, and get back here with something that can neutralize this thing." He extended a hand to Ianto. "OK?"

 

Ianto took Jack's hand and heaved himself up. "Yep."

 

"OK. Let's go talk to Beckwith."

 

They arranged for a police guard -- Beckwith grumbled and blustered but gave in once Jack pointed out that pissing off Torchwood was one thing, but pissing off one of Cardiff's wealthiest citizens was another -- then started back to the city. Jack insisted in driving, and Ianto didn't argue, which told Jack he hadn't fully recovered.

 

Jack tapped his earbud. 'Gwen, we have a developing situation. Get Martha and Andy back to the Hub, the Gaien can wait. Get a couple of containment field generators ready. Tell John to do some research on an Egyptian relic called the Eye of Neith, N-E-I-T-H. Fine. See you in thirty."

 

"Fasten your seat belt," Ianto advised Isabella. "When Jack says thirty, he means it."

 

They raced back to Cardiff in silence. Jack drove directly into the underground parking lot's lowest level and stopped in front of a blank wall with a small door almost hidden behind a pillar.

 

"Ianto. Do you trust Isabella?"

 

Ianto paused for a long second. "I used to think so."

 

"Ianto!"

 

"I don't know who you are! You know more about that thing than you're telling us. You used me to get to Jack and his resources… no, please don't lie."

 

"Ianto…"

 

"Don't. I made a mistake once, Bella, and I damn near set off a war for civilization itself. I am not going to do anything so stupid again!"

 

"Ianto… It wasn't… all right, I'll tell you. The whole truth, this time."

 

"All right," Jack said, tapping the release sequence on the remote control. The wall slid aside silently, revealing the Torchwood garage beyond it. Jack drove through and parked. "Welcome to Torchwood, Professor Branciforte."

 

They walked down the short access corridor to the cog door. Jack swiped his hand across the security plate. He watched Isabella as the door rolled open, the claxons went off… and they were faced with four stony-eyed armed people.

 

"Stand down, everyone. The professor is here by invitation." He ushered her in with a bow. "Professor Branciforte, may I introduce Gwen Cooper-Williams, second in command, Martha Jones-Milligan, medical officer, John Hart, computer expert, and Andy Davidson, all around guy and police liaison."

 

"I also keep this lot in coffee and takeaway," Andy said with a smile. "The meeting room is ready, Jack."

 

"Let's go, then. The lady has a story to tell us and we don't have much time."

 

As the group assembled, Isabella stood by the plate-glass window, looking down at the main floor. "You don't deal with terrorists or international drug barons, do you?"

 

"Not unless we have to." Jack motioned her to a chair. "Enough stalling, Isabella."

 

She sat down, accepting a cup of coffee from Andy. "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "What I told you about the Eye is true. What I have… avoided telling you is that my family has been the guardians of the Eye since before the days of the Pharaohs."

 

Ianto sat up as if he had been jabbed with a hot needle. "You said…"

 

"I know what I said. We both kept secrets, didn't we?" Her hand swept out to encompass everything about her. "We have kept our secrets since before Menes united the Two Kingdoms. I had a responsibility to my family as you had one to yours."

 

"How did you get your hands on it?" Jack asked.

 

"Family history says that a great chariot fell from the sky near the town we lived in. We found a man, injured, and we nursed him back to health. He told us he was the priest of the goddess Neith and that she had sent him to find us. He had magical weapons and tools. He crafted the Eye from the silvery metal and a great red stone he was carrying on the ship… Oh God, I thought it was just a story. I've spent half my professional life looking for the real history of the Eye. It was just a story… but it wasn't, was it?"

 

"Nope." Jack said, not without some sympathy. "How did you come to lose it, Isabella?"

 

"A woman showed up at… our secret place. She told the guardians on duty that she was Neith come for her Eye. Those who tried to stop her, died. She entered the Sanctuary and touched the Eye. It woke up." She looked at them, wild-eyed. "It woke up! Since the days of Thutmose III it had been dormant! She took the Eye and left."

 

"Damn." Jack swore. "Andy, get a hold of Beckwith. Tell him to lock Davies in the study with the Eye and make sure there are enough cops on the ground to at least slow her down."

Andy left the room at a gallop.

"You must have some security in your place," Gwen said. "Anything we could use?"

 

"No. We don't do security all that well; who would come looking for an Egyptian legend in the middle of the Veneto? All I have is a very bad description from the one survivor. She was dressed in the ancient style, sheath, shawl, and wig. And the Deshret, the Red Crown, as she should have. She was rather otherworldly. Distant. Spoke only when absolutely necessary."

 

"Could be anyone." Jack sat back, fingers steepled under his chin. "Anything else?"

 

"The boy who sold the Eye to Alex might be my nephew. He disappeared two days after the theft. I think he picked Alex because he heard about him from me."

 

"All right," Jack said. "Here's another piece of the puzzle. The Eye is made of proto-validium."

 

"Shit!" John straightened up with a jerk.

 

"Exactly. Supposedly validium was created by the Time Lords. Real validium is sentient and rather nasty. Proto-validium is not as potent, but it's still self-aware enough to influence the minds of those it can reach. Scientists assume it was the result of a botched experiment, but now…"

 

"That's why you didn't want to bring it with us!"

 

Jack nodded to Ianto. "Exactly. You were severely affected by something in that thing." He sat back. "I don't even know what the red stones are but you simply brushed your fingers over one and got kicked back on your arse. Can you tell us what happened?"

 

"Visions… past, future, maybe? Do you know a planet with two suns, silvery trees, big snow-covered mountains, where the evening sky turns orange?" The shocked looks he got from Jack, Martha, and John stopped him cold. "What?"

 

"That really and truly does fucking tear it," said John. He slid the folder in front of him to Jack. "Here's what you asked for, but don't bother. Let me tell you a story instead, the creation story of a very primitive people, whose sky is dominated by a massive star forever collapsing into itself, but forever in balance. They tell of a deity named A'Nethisi, Mother Death, who sailed the stars with a companion, The One, seeding life and death as she passed. She traveled in a living red-gold ship and was served by living metal. A'Nethisi was pursued by a rogue-god who wanted her power. They fought on the event horizon of the star. When she realized she would be defeated, she sailed her ship into the star, where they were compressed into a red diamond the size of a man's head. The One retrieved the diamond and fled to the ends of the Universe. Believers are still waiting for A'Nethisi's return."

 

"Damn. Damn. Damn.' Jack jumped up. "John, hack every database you can think of; you have free rein. Just try not to get us outlawed, ok? Martha, fire up your magic phone and get a hold of our friend. I don't care where he is and what he is doing. I want to know everything there is to know about this A'Nethisi. Gwen, I need you here to co-ordinate. I have a feeling this is going to get really, really worse before it gets better. Isabella, you will stay here. You are our one and only expert on this thing, so you're in security lockdown. Ianto…"

 

"I'm going with you, Jack. I know we had agreed… but it seems I'm involved whether I want to or not."

 

"Fair enough."

"Jack." The hint of panic in Andy's voice had everyone jumping around. "I can't raise Beckwith. In fact I can't raise anyone. All the police phones in Cardiff are dead."


	5. Chapter 5

The Torchwood SUV raced through the late afternoon rain ahead of a long line of police cars. At Andy's suggestion, they had snatched up a handful of Torchwood spare phones and rushed them to police headquarters. Giving police a free rein of the Torchwood network was driving Jack barmy, but Andy pointed out that it would reduce the possibility of a cockup in the operation if all involved could talk to each other.

 

Ianto got a charge out of watching Andy manage Jack. His stolid acceptance of everything Torchwood threw at him extended to Jack's temperament, and he blocked every attempt at argument with a calm, common-sensical attitude that could reduce the good Captain to muttered grumblings about the Welsh. _I've got to ask Jack how he got Gwen to agree to hire him_.

 

As the caravan neared the access road to Davies's house, they heard the thumping whine of a helicopter taking off. Jack snarled as it flew over their heads.

 

"Shall I get a chase on, then?" asked Andy.

 

"Don't bother," said Jack. "That fucker's a LynxZB500, the fastest thing with a rotor in the British Isles. They'll go dark as soon as they clear the city. Police cars won't be able to keep up, not in this rain."

 

He sent the SUV careening down the access road at a speed that earned a _good God almighty, Harkness!_ from Andy. As they reached the courtyard, Jack slewed it to block access. He tapped his earbud.

 

"From here on, we go on foot. Get some people sweeping the fields and woods." He looked hard at both Ianto and Andy. "Be careful, every one. We don't know what kind of surprises they might have left behind."

 

Ianto checked his gun. Strangely, the whole thing felt familiar, and not exactly unwelcome. This is part of my life as well.

 

He took his usual place behind and to the left of Jack. Andy fell in to the right, as if they had been doing this all along. The three of them moved into the courtyard, crouching against the buildings, sweeping roofs and doorways for snipers. Behind them, policemen poured in, following the same pattern.

 

The courtyard was lit by the single bulb of a carriage lamp by the front door. Three men in uniform lay in a heap to one side. Long dark streaks on the gravel showed where they had been killed then dragged to be stacked like cordwood. The sight made Andy hiss curses under his breath.

 

"Door!" Jack barked at Andy and Ianto. They followed him up the steps. Jack pushed gently on the latch --Ianto wondered if some of the policemen were disappointed by the show of restraint -- and, when the door began to open, tossed in something and closed the door again. The reason for his caution became apparent in a few seconds, when the whole house blazed with an incandescent glow that made everyone's eyes water.

 

Jack pushed the door open again and the three of them walked in, still on the alert. There were five more bodies in the entryway. This had been hand-to-hand combat, and the Cardiff police had given a good account of themselves. Three of the bodies wore dull black military-style clothing, complete with balaclavas. The only spot of color was a small patch over the left breast, showing crossed arrows crowned with a Pharaoh's crown.

 

Jack pulled the balaclava off one of them. It was a gray-haired man, very fit but starting to soften around the edges. Even in death he had a nasty twist to his mouth. Jack made a growling noise in the back of his throat.

 

"Jack?" Ianto asked softly.

 

"I know him from somewhere. Can't place him."

 

Ianto noticed that the policemen were just waiting for Jack to make the next move. He gave a small jerk of the head towards them. "It'll come back to you faster if you don't push it."

 

Jack nodded. "Everyone. Search the house. In pairs, no heroics, ok? If you see anything that qualifies as even the smallest bit strange, give a shout. You and you," he pointed to two young constables,"come with us."

 

He set out down the corridor to the office. The door has been blown off its hinges. Three more of the military types lay just beyond. Each one of them had been taken out by a single gunshot to the head. Beyond them lay Beckwith, gun still in hand.

 

"Fantastic shooting," said Jack.

 

One of the constables gave a weak chuckle. "Departmental champion six years running. We used to take the piss" his faced crumpled "because who'd ever be in a gunfight in Cardiff!" Andy patted his shoulder and motioned them both out of the room.

 

Jack prowled beyond Beckwith's body. Ianto followed, knowing what Jack was looking for: Alexander Davies. They found him crumpled in a fetal position halfway under his desk. The left side of his head was covered in blood.

 

"Damn it," Jack whispered.

 

Amazingly, Davies's eyes fluttered open. "Harkness?"

 

Ianto tapped his earbud. "Get an ambulance and some paramedics in here! We have a survivor!"

 

"Don't… bother." Blood seeped out of Davies's mouth with each word. "I just… needed to hold on… I knew you were… coming back. Had to… tell you… the woman… took the Eye… warehouse… she said bring… girl… bring the last girl… to the warehouse."

 

His head lolled to one side. Jack checked the pulse point at his neck. 'Damn."

 

"Warehouse?" Ianto asked.

 

"There are places along the river gentrification hasn't reached yet," Andy said. "Even weevils avoid them. You could hide there for a long time."

 

"What would they need them for?" Ianto mused. "People who can afford Lynxes can afford a better class of hideout. Unless… they're here for the same reason Torchwood is."

 

"The Rift," Jack said.

 

"The thing I felt… what it did took a lot of energy. I was starving when I woke up, as if I hadn't eaten for weeks." Ianto smiled softly at a memory. "Tosh! Right before Tosh died she was working on a program that was supposed to pinpoint spikes in Rift energy and track fluctuations within each spike."

 

"John's been working on it," Andy said. "He calls it the Pretty Girl Genius's Bloody Headache. But he gets results of a sort."

 

Jack pulled something out of his pocket.

 

"A cell phone?" Andy looked gobsmacked. "You're going to bloody call John on a cell phone?"

 

"Actually, it's a nifty piece of technology Ianto and I stole from UNIT once upon a time. It creates an invisible network within a network. If your code's in here, you can hear the conversation. If you're not, you're deaf. You're on police monitor duty, Andy." Jack pressed a few buttons. "John?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Put me on the speaker. I need Isabella to hear this." He waited for the tell-tale click, then continued. "Davies told us that these bastards might be using a warehouse as a base of operations. It's likely they need Rift energy somehow. Can you use Tosh's program to pinpoint any Rift spikes in or near warehouse areas?"

 

"Now, see, that's why I'm the only one of your ex-wives that you still love." Ianto raised an eyebrow at John's sally, while Andy rolled his eyes. "Already done. Validium and Rift energy, a match made in heaven. There are three locations that show spikes, but only one that shows a pattern." He recited an address. "Once a week for the past three weeks. Sharp energy spike, then four smaller ones, then gone as if someone had swallowed it whole."

 

"We'll need to get there tonight. Get everyone except Martha and we'll meet you there. Is Isabella listening?"

 

"Yes, Jack, I am."

 

"Would you know of any reason…"

 

"Jack," she interrupted. "Is Alex ok?"

 

Jack swallowed hard before answering. "No. I'm sorry Isabella. He lived long enough to give us the information."

 

"We brought this on him, my family and I, dear God…"

 

"Isabella!" Jack snapped. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we don't have time! Davies said they mentioned taking the last girl somewhere. Do you have any idea why they would need a girl?"

 

"No, I… Oh God, oh God." Jack heard John say sit down, sit down in the background, then Isabella spoke again. "The Awakening of Neith."

 

"The what?"

 

"When the Eye began to go dormant, one of my ancestors, who was buried in an unmarked grave with no name and will not be remembered in our prayers, created a ceremony to reinvigorate it. It involved the sacrifice of young girls, preferably virgins." She gave a bitter laugh. "The ultimate horror movie cliché."

 

"Things just keep getting better, don't they? John, we need to get to the warehouse as soon as possible."

 

"I'm going along," Isabella said.

 

"No."

 

"Jack, you don't have a choice. There is a counter-ritual to the Awakening, but it can only be performed by a priest of Neith, and I'm the only one you have available at the moment." Taking advantage of Jack's silence, she pressed on. "I can take care of myself. Ask Ianto."

 

Jack looked at Ianto, who nodded. "All right…"

 

"Jack" Andy said urgently, pointing at his earpiece. "They're saying they found the housekeeper alive. She's in the kitchen."

 

Jack and Ianto sprinted across the house, Jack belting out orders to John as he went. They burst into the kitchen to find Mrs. Bolton sitting at the work table, holding a cup of tea, and looking her usual feisty self in spite of her disheveled appearance.

 

"Mrs. Bolton!" Jack swept her up into his arms impulsively. "Are you all right?"

 

She patted his shoulder as if he were a boy. "Of course I am, Captain Harkness."

 

"Forgive me the question," Ianto said. "But why are you all right? They…"

 

"Killed everyone else? Yes, I know, Mr. Jones, I saw them do it. The men were going to shoot me too but she came in and told them to lock me in the pantry." She sighed. "I suppose she couldn't bring herself to kill an old friend."

 

Everyone stared at her dumbfounded. "You know this woman, Mrs. Bolton?"

 

"I should say so, sir. My mam was in service with her parents for many years. We grew up together, playing hide and seek and swimming in the ornamental pools in their garden."

 

"Who is she, Mrs. Bolton?"

 

"Lucy, sir. Miss Lucy Cole she was, of course that was before she married the Prime Minister. Mrs. Harold Saxon."


	6. Chapter 6

The warehouses were tucked in a bend of the river, surrounded by equally derelict tenements. This was old industrial Cardiff, not yet reclaimed by the twin waves of urbanization and tourism. The atmosphere was not improved by the rusty chain-link fence someone had put up in a vain attempt to keep out squatters and 'urban recyclers'.

 

"They had some very interesting electronics on that fence," John said. "Would have seen us coming a parsec away."

 

"I take it you disabled them?" asked Ianto.

 

"Aaw, you know better than that, Eye-Candy." John smirked. "I put them on a short video loop. All they'll see is the same deserted streets. They're probably used to the lovely view."

 

Andy and Gwen appeared from either end of the street, joining the group standing in the shadow of a half-demolished building.

 

"Six men, armed with machine guns," Andy reported. "I don't think I approve of machine guns in Cardiff."

 

"In this instance," said John drily. "Neither do I."

 

"Mind you," said Gwen, "they look more like prison guards than soldiers."

 

"That's it," said Jack. "The man back at Davies's house. He was a guard in the Valiant."

 

"I guess is cockroach-stomping time, then," said John. "Time's a-wasting people. " Let's go."

 

"Gwen, Andy, you're in charge of Isabella. Don't argue," Jack said to the professor, who was about to open her mouth. "You're the only priest of Neith we have, remember? Ianto, John, guards are ours. Make as little noise as possible."

 

"And you'll show me which end of the gun to point?" Ianto smirked. "We've all done this before, Jack. Go!"

 

The cheap lock on the gate gave way easily under John's skilled fingers. The fight with the guards was short and sweet. Jack noticed Ianto had added a few more tricks to his repertoire. _Damn he's sexy. When this is all over, I've got to get him down to the training room_.

 

"Too easy," John said. "It's like they don't care if we get in there."

 

"Maybe," said Jack. "Or maybe they're just not very good. Most of the guys up on the Valiant were not selected for their soldiering abilities. Mostly a bunch of sadistic ass-kissers. And God, we're all twenty-five years older."

 

"Uh-huh. You don't mind if I stay suspicious, do you?"

 

"Be my guest."

 

Jack kicked the warehouse door open. The room beyond was empty, and it reeked of mold and stagnant water. It was partially circled by a catwalk with open-thread stairs at either end, and several doors into the upper part of the building. At the far end of the ground floor, another door was slightly open.

 

Ianto and John raced up the catwalk stairs. All the upstairs doors led to what had once been offices, but were now dangerously unsafe, with exposed wiring and rotting floors. In the meantime, Jack, Gwen, and Andy had rushed Isabella to the relative safety of a corner at the other end of the room, underneath the catwalk, close to the door. She reached over and placed her hand on the door handle.

 

"There's a wrongness about this place." She looked at Jack, her eyes full of unshed tears. "A violation of the laws of nature."

 

"That might be just me," Jack muttered. At Isabella's puzzled look, he shook his head. "Never mind. You didn't mention you were a sensitive."

 

"Prerequisite for the priesthood of Neith." She gave a bitter chuckle. "Until today I've only used it for family ceremonies and to separate real antiquities from the fakes."

 

"All clear upstairs," John said as he and Ianto reached them. "And the prize is…"

 

He pointed at the door next to them. Jack looked at it speculatively, and then pushed on it. It swung back noiselessly. The room beyond was wreathed in shadow except for the faint moonlight coming in through a window high up near the ceiling. They went in, Jack, Ianto, and John assuming the classic high-low positions while Gwen and Andy, their backs to them, protected their rear guard.

 

As they backed into the room, Gwen and Andy reached to either side of the door, feeling for a light switch. Gwen found and flipped it, flooding the room with stark while light.

 

"Fucking hell," Ianto's harsh whisper spoke for all of them. "Bloody fucking hell."

 

The room had been rebuilt to resemble an Egyptian temple. Six columns with lotus capitals supported a non-existing roof. The walls were decorated with polychrome murals. At the far end, a massive gold-leafed throne chair was flanked by two full-size statues of the goddess Neith, pictured exactly as she appeared in the pectoral. Four other statues stood at each cardinal point. In front of each, there was a small chair carved with lotus blossoms.

 

In each chair sat a young girl dressed and elaborately made up in ancient Egyptian fashion. Their wrists were lashed to the arms of the chairs with tasselled gold cords. They sat, kohl-rimmed eyes wide open, staring at nothing, their beautiful features intact but desiccated, as if all the moisture had been drained from their bodies.

 

"This is an obscenity," Isabella said flatly.

 

"I'd call it something a little stronger," Andy said, "but obscenity will do."

 

"I'm not speaking of the girls, Andrew," she said kindly. "That is an insult to the goddess, and those who participated in this are doubly damned to be forgotten both here and in the afterlife. Torchwood will avenge them, will you not?"

 

"Oh yeah," said Jack.

 

"What do your mean by an obscenity, Bella?" asked Ianto.

 

"This place. It's wrong in every way." She started moving in a wide circle. "We assume this place was set up to serve as a ceremonial precinct for the Awakening of Neith, yes?"

 

"It would seem so," Ianto said.

 

"Neith's ceremonies must be very precise. Each item in the temple, each word spoken, is chosen for a purpose, and if anything is missing the ceremony will not work. This is a mixture of true and false. The statues of Neith… why would you need them? She's present in Her Eye. The cardinal gods are all god of death. Anubis, the God of mummification, who watches over the dead. Soker, Lord of the afterlife, who watches over the Pharaoh's rebirth and the transfer of royal power. Amnut, the Goddess who devours the hearts of those who fail the test of the feather of Ma'at. But Set? At the earliest time, Set was one of the Great Ones, not just a brother-murderer. This is Ament's place, She who greets the souls at the gates of the underworld. And look at this mural, Ianto. What do you see?"

 

"Akhenaton… you're right, that doesn't make sense."

 

"Why not? He was a famous Pharaoh, right?" asked Andy.

 

"Akhenaton tried to depose the Egyptian pantheon and replace it exclusively with the worship of Aton." Ianto explained. "He would be anathema in the precinct of another God."

 

"So what the hell is going on here?" Gwen burst out. "Why do this? Stupidity? Ignorance?"

 

"Neither," said Isabella. "Since you told me about the girls, Jack, I've been trying to figure out why they would want to use this ceremony. It was performed once, and only once, in a desperate attempt to get the Eye to respond, and it failed. From what Ianto experienced in Alex's study, the Eye is already awakening on its own. So why this now?"

 

"You tell me," said Jack.

 

"Gwen and John were telling me about this thing you call the Rift. It carries an immeasurable amount of power. If John's legend is right, the Eye houses the… remains… of a very powerful being, encased in the remains of a living ship, and surrounded by a metal that is sentient and can be shaped into anything…"

 

"Self-aware," John said, "Not sentient. There's a difference."

 

"Not much of one," Ianto said suddenly, "if at least some of Neith's consciousness is also within the Eye. Whatever I felt had knowledge, experience, and it knew exactly what it was looking for."

 

"So what if these madmen," Isabella said, "Are trying to somehow bring Neith back to life? To… regenerate her, somehow?"

 

Jack made a sound somewhere between a snarl and a sob. "Not Neith. The Master. Her husband. Lucy's trying to regenerate the Master."

 

"But why would they need the girls?" Gwen asked. "If it's not a sacrifice, what is it?"

 

"Human DNA," said Jack. "The Eye would need it for a template. Four sets of genes would give it enough variety to work from."

 

"But Saxon was a man!"

 

"Why would that matter to him?" asked Jack angrily. "The consciousness in the Eye is not human, Gwen. Its strongest memories may be of being female, so it would probably be able to regenerate in that form best, but it doesn't mean that is has to stay that way. Or maybe the Master thinks it's the best place to hide for now. Who would associate a young welsh girl with a murdering Time Lord? Or maybe" his voice was suddenly weighed down with sadness, "Lucy has finally gone insane and all this is just the creation of a diseased imagination."

 

He bowed his head and turned away from them. Grief and tangled memory threatened to overwhelm him. So many years, and we're still dealing with the consequences of the bastard's actions. _Of my actions. Lucy, oh Lucy_.

 

The scent of forest and ocean and delicious sweat that meant _Ianto_ to him invaded his nostrils, and a strong hand clasped his. Jack clung tightly for a moment, drawing strength and courage and life from his lover's touch.

 

"But it's failed already, hasn't it?" Andy made a half-hearted gesture towards the bodies. "All this…"

 

"I'm sorry Andrew, but no," said Isabella. "In order for the ceremony to work properly, all four girls must be sacrificed at the same time. These girls died at different times."

 

"Three weeks, three Rift spikes, four girls." said John. "They must have doubled-up the last time. That must have accounted for the extra bumps. But why?"

 

"So this was for nothing?"

 

"This was practice," Jack said, releasing Ianto's hand and turning back to them. "They were experimenting to see what would work."

 

The monstrosity of it all rendered them speechless for a moment. Into the silence came Martha's voice, using the override codes to activate all the sets.

 

"Jack. The Doctor's on his way and he wants all of you back in the Hub. Now."


	7. Chapter 7

Ianto lounged in one of the very comfortable armchairs Gwen had at some point substituted for the ratty old couch he remembered, and watched the reunion going on a few feet away. The team had scattered to their stations, doing whatever it was they did when they wanted to give Jack a little privacy. That left Ianto to watch his lover and the being that had, in some way, redeemed him.

 

The Time Lord looked the same as he did the last time Ianto had seen him, right after the last encounter with the Daleks. Time lines being what they were, he had no way of knowing how much time passed for the Doctor; everything from a few months to a thousand years was possible. Ianto knew it had been a little over ten years for Jack. He wondered if the Time Lord could see the change in the Captain as clearly as Ianto did himself.

 

"Coffee?" John appeared at his elbow, mugs in hand. "I'm told that, though never as good as yours, I make a creditable cup."

 

"Thanks." He took a cautious sip, and then nodded. "Good."

 

"Don't sound so shocked, Eye-Candy," John teased. "I've been around here long enough to learn a few things."

 

Ianto smiled at John and settled for a good offense. "Did Gwen send you or was this your own idea?"

 

John looked a little shamefaced. "Look, Ianto… Gwen is worried. This guy is a Torchwood albatross."

 

"Not this time," Ianto said calmly. "Trust Jack on this one. I do."

 

John made a face, but nodded. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their coffee and waiting. A few minutes later the doctor started prowling through the Hub like a bloodhound on the scent.

 

"Doc? Doc!" Jack chased him down and held him in place by the shoulders. "Focus here. We don't have much time."

 

"Oh, but we do, Jack. Whatever will happen can't happen until tomorrow night." He turned his twinkling eyes to Isabella. "Isn't that so, Nethisireinorallavnthyadorai?"

 

'Ah… Doc… that Isabella. Professor Branciforte."

 

"Of course she is," the Doctor said, hands in pockets, rocking back on his heels. "But she's also Nethisi, Jack. She has to be. I did a little research after Martha called. Nethisi was a genius, even by Time Lord standards. Some say she was the intellectual equal of Rassilon himself. She also had a paranoid streak as wide as the Vortex. When she set herself up in the godding business, she wanted a way to control her priests. Well, priest really, she only had one at a time. Easier to manage. Sooo, she figured out how to make The One an extension of herself."

 

"How, doctor?" Ianto whispered, sickened. "How?"

 

"Shall I tell him, Nethisi?" The doctor asked playfully. "Or shall you?"

 

Isabella smiled. She had been sitting at Gwen's station, idly swinging the chair from side to side. Now she stood and walked over to the doctor and Jack. Without a word, she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal her chest and the slope of her breasts. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a dull red glow began to pulsate under her skin. It intensified until everyone could clearly see a tear-shaped red-and-gold object beating steadily above her heart.

 

"Duw," whispered Andy.

 

Ianto made a small retching sound. Isabella-Nethisi looked in his direction.

 

"Whatever we shared, when we made love, it was… mostly my mortal part."

 

"Mostly?"

 

She shrugged. "Once in a while I desire pleasure again. Be proud, Ianto. There aren't many living mortals who can say they have loved a goddess."

 

"Or a Time Lord," muttered John.

 

"And you, captain?" Isabella-Nethisi asked. "Do you feel jealous? Your young lover achieved what you could not."

 

"Jealous of what, Nethisi?" Jack smiled. "You had to trick Ianto into your bed, using the body of your servant. He comes to my bed willing, Time Lord. What we do together we do of our own free will, as equals, and there's a sweetness in our love that you have never experienced. Not even when you were alive."

 

The stone at Isabella's breast flashed violently, and then went dark.

 

"You like to live dangerously, Captain," Isabella massaged her chest. "You made Her very angry."

 

"No more games, Isabella," Jack said grimly. "What is Nethisi's stake in this?"

 

"We were approached by Mrs. Saxon's representative. She offered Nethisi a chance for a new body if Nethisi helped her regenerate her husband."

 

"That's why two girls at the same time,' John said. "They need to create two bodies."

 

"Her husband cannot be regenerated!" The Doctor burst out. "I burned the body myself."

 

"Did you destroy his ring? It's a chameleon arch, doctor. The one who calls himself the Master had prepared for you. As he lay dying, he sent his consciousness into it."

 

"Impossible. Chameleon arches don't work that way."

 

"Not in your time. But in Nethisi's time, regeneration was uncertain. The rings were developed as a failsafe. If the regeneration process went wrong, the Time Lord's consciousness would go into the ring until a new body could be grown or… obtained." Isabella laughed at the Doctor's expression. "There are things in your people's past that do not bear close examination, Doctor."

 

"Why? Why would he do that? If he had chosen to live I would have helped him, protected him somehow."

 

Ianto saw the shadow fall across Jack's face as his partner turned away from the Doctor. He could see Martha's eyes, full of unshed tears. Sudden rage boiled over, and he stepped up to face the Time Lord.

 

"And to think," he said quietly, "that I spent years fearing you."

 

"Fearing me?" the Doctor yelped. "Whatever did I do to you?"

 

"I knew how important you were to Jack. He loved you so much, he admired you so much, he believed in you so much that he lived in hell for a year to help buy you time. And all the thanks he got was to watch you weep over the body of his torturer. And still, when you needed him again, off he went."

 

"But he…"

 

"For the first time in your long life, be quiet and listen." Ianto's voice became even gentler. "You are one of the most brilliant beings to ever live. You are the protector of the weak, the only hope of the helpless, the oncoming storm. But when it comes to those who love you, you are as thick as two short planks. Look at them, Doctor. You attract all these seemingly ordinary people and they transform themselves into heroes for love of you. Love transformed a two-bit con man into a guardian for this planet. Love transformed a sweet middle-class trainee doctor into a warrior that saved the world. You whine about being alone, and yet you abandon your best creations without a backward glance. You'd rather have a mass murderer that reminds you of the past than these brilliant children that could be your future."

 

He turned away from the stunned Time Lord and walked up to Jack, who stood stock still, face white with shock. "Don't ask me to…"

 

The rest of the sentence went unspoken, as Jack pulled him into his arms and kissed him, heedless of anyone watching. It was _thank you_ and _I love you_ and _I will not abandon you_ and _it's forever_ , all conveyed by the firm pressure of lips, and the soft stroking of tongues, and the gentle brush of fingers against his neck.

 

"Jack…" The usually chipper voice was suddenly old and tired. "Martha…"

 

Ianto caressed Jack's cheek. "Go to him. I think he's finally figured out that he needs you."

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. When he opened them again he found John standing close, holding out his coffee mug.

 

"I am going to make it my own special project," the former time agent murmured, "never, ever, ever to piss you off. Now, watch this."

 

John swaggered to the center of the Hub.

 

"Well, now that we have the domestic out of the way" he said cheekily, "we need to get down to brass bolts. This regeneration party… where will it happen, and why not until tomorrow?"

 

"The why I can tell you," the Doctor said, releasing Martha's hand. "TARDIS use Rift energy as fuel. The Eye has to recharge and it doesn't have the ability to do it very well in its current state. It won't be ready until tomorrow."

 

"And the where?" Andy said. 'They can't go back to the warehouse, and besides, Isa… she said it was all wrong."

 

"Mrs. Saxon's not very free with information." Isabella said. "The representative did say there was a very powerful place here. A place where a demon was defeated and an immortal hero died."

 

Ianto and Gwen spoke at the same time. "Abaddon."

 

"Wasn't that place reclaimed by the developers a while ago?" Andy asked. "It's probably all fancy flats and shops where you pay a hundred quid for a Cymru t-shirt."

 

Gwen had been busy at her computer. "It will be, once they're finished building. Four residence towers, shops, and a beautiful garden with a central fountain, lovely benches to while away the time, and four sculptures at the cardinal points." She turned her oversize monitor so everyone could see. "They call it Phoenix Park."


	8. Chapter 8

Like so many places in up-and-coming Cardiff, Phoenix Park was a work in progress. Construction material was still piled up among the flower beds and most of the Victorian-style lamp posts were not yet wired. The only finished area seemed to be the central plaza, where four stark ebony columns loomed unappealingly over the incomplete landscape.

 

Jack watched the plaza from the first floor of one of the shops that lined the old-fashioned pier along the river. The others were scattered around the grounds, Gwen and Andy keeping an eye on other possible entrances, while John, Ianto, and Martha swept the area for surveillance equipment.

 

The team -- and Isabella -- had been smuggled into the complex inside a furnishings delivery lorry kept in Rhys's yard for such occasions. Jack's first impulse had been to let the lady cool her heels in the cage next to Janet's, but she had given him a scathing look and told him to stop being silly.

 

"If I'm not there, Nethisi may decide not to participate. The results would be horrific, Jack. Raw power being pulled from the Rift without a proper receptacle to channel it in a place like that… would you be ready for the second coming of Abaddon? Besides," she gave him a sly smile, "my being there might give you a chance to snatch the Eye back. I am probably the only person who can touch it when it is fully powered up."

 

And so professor Branciforte had joined them, under John's watchful eye. Jack had given John some very specific orders in her presence, and she had bared her teeth at them in a mocking grimace. The Doc, though, waited in the Hub, protected by a perception filter and Tosh's bubble. He had pitched an almighty strop, but Ianto, of all people, had managed to get through to him.

"If we stop them before regeneration takes place, problem solved. If we don't, well, you're our last line of defense against rogue Time Lords."

 

After their -- Jack wanted to call it a confrontation, but had been more of a surgically precise strike -- Ianto and the Doctor had spent the rest of the time sniffing at each other like a couple of cats. Jack had watched in barely concealed glee as the two most important men in his life wordlessly negotiated a truce and took a few tentative steps towards friendship.

 

"Heads up!" Andy's voice sounded urgent in his ear. "They're here."

 

Three dark sedans drove into the complex and parked as close to the plaza as they could. Armed guards stepped out of each, weapons drawn. Jack snorted in disgust; the Valiant crew hadn't learned much in twenty-five years.

 

Two women emerged from the first sedan. They were cloaked, like the heroines in a BBC historical melodrama. One of them was carrying the box taken from Davies's house. She motioned at the other sedan, and two girls were dragged out. From their slow, uncoordinated movements, it was obvious they had been drugged.

 

The group moved along the gravel path to the plaza. The fountain was a modern affair, with a shallow basin and a metal plinth crowned by a flat marble slab in its center. Water was supposed to seep out of spouts inset in the marble and stream over the edge. Now, bone, dry, it served as an altar of sorts.

 

The two cloaked women and four of the guards stepped into the basin. The guards lit torches and set them in a semicircle around the the lip of the basin. The woman carrying the box placed it on the slab, opened it, and took out the Eye.

 

"It's time."

 

Jack gave a start as he realized that he was hearing her over the Torchwood network.

 

"Captain Harkness. I know you can hear me. So helpful of you to provide the Cardiff police with phones during their recent troubles." Her voice was tinny, unrecognizable. "But some of our erstwhile defenders have expensive tastes. It's so easy to find a weak link, don't you think?"

 

It was obvious she expected a response, but, when none was coming, she continued. "Aren't you concerned with the lives of these poor girls? Sacrifices in a good cause, Captain, but you can change that." She grew visibly angry at the continued silence. "No? Very well, then. I will give you someone to worry about."

 

She reached up and tore the hood off the other woman's head.

 

It was Lucy Saxon.

 

Jack was downstairs before he realized he was moving. He ran flat-out, past the parking lot and the pretty flower beds, until he stood at the lip of the basin, peering up at the hooded woman facing him.

 

"Who the hell are you?"

 

She threw back her hood with a triumphant air. She had once been beautiful, in a cool blonde way, but age had not been kind. Her hair was dull and unkempt and the heavy makeup could not conceal the ravaged skin underneath.

 

"That's the woman who confiscated my telephone," Martha told him. "The one who had my family arrested."

 

From the woman's expression, it was obvious that she also could recognize Martha. "I was Mr. Saxon's assistant. He called me his right hand man." She giggled "He liked his puns."

 

"I remember you now," Jack said. "Miss Dexter. The guards hated you. They used to call you Miss Sinister."

 

"They thought I was just an assistant. But I was more, so much more." She pointed at Lucy. "She warmed his bed, but I was his Companion. His friend." At Jack's contemptuous snort, she stamped her foot. "I was! He told me all his plans. He told me who he was, the most powerful being in the Universe…"

 

Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see movement. He had to keep Miss Dexter's attention off what was happening in the shadows beyond the light of the torches. "Yeah, yeah, power, greatness, ruling the Universe, blah, blah, blah," he said mockingly. "So if you're his soulmate, what do you need Lucy for?"

 

She grabbed Lucy by the wrist and pulled her forward. Jack nearly winced as he got his first good look at her. Lucy looked nearly as bad as she had done in those godawful final days in the Valiant.

 

"Haven't you guessed yet, Captain? Nethisi needs a new body. This one will do very well as a template." She smiled "And the punishment will fit the crime."

 

"Crime?"

 

"Did you think I didn't know? How she snuck down to the boiler room at night after my Master was done with her? So romantic, holding you for hours, talking to you as if you were courting in her father's gardens. Stupid woman. I knew, I knew!"

 

"Did you get off on watching us, Miss Sinister?" Jack gave her a feral grin. "Saxon wouldn't have had much of an interest in you after Lucy. Was that why you didn't tell him? He won't be pleased, you know. He was never much for independent thought in his followers."

 

"He won't care! He won't care because I'm going to give him what he wants most of all." She giggled as she stroked the Eye. "Do you know what he wanted most, Captain? You. He used to talk about you for hours. To me, only to me. And now I'm going to give him your body, Captain. He'll look like you, be you. And he'll have you to play with forever, and ever, and ever…"

 

Jack shivered uncontrollably. "You are stark staring mad."

 

"Be quiet!" She screamed, pulling out a gun from the folds of her cloak and pointing it at Lucy. "Get the priestess here or I'll kill her. Nethisi won't care which body she gets."

 

"I'm here."

 

Isabella walked out of the shadows at the other end of the plaza. Jack's jaw nearly hit the ground when he saw her. She wore a pleated linen sheath held up by wide straps that covered her breasts. Her hair flowed down her back, held to her temples by a simple diadem of carnelian beads woven in the shape of lotus blossoms. She looked about fifteen, if a fifteen year old could also possess infinite knowledge and wisdom.

 

She was followed by Ianto, seemingly unarmed.

 

Jack only managed to keep from screaming by chomping down on the inside of his cheek. He trusted Ianto to know what he was doing, but the sight of his lover walking into the line of fire terrified him. _Listen, Whoever you are and if you're there, don't make me lose him now that I've found him again. Anything you want, but not Ianto_.

 

When she reached the altar, Isabella reached out to brush her fingertips across the Eye. "My Lady is ready. Produce your Master."

 

Miss Dexter set a heavy ring on the table next to the Eye. Isabella ran her hands over them, chanting something under her breath. Jack could feel the build up of power in his bones, like a faint electric current that kept on gaining strength with each passing second.

 

As the power increased, two vague shapes began to form above the slab. Icy air emanated from them. Jack could see frost appearing in the marble. The shapes moved around each other in a kind of dance that seemed more of a fencing match than a birth. It took a moment for Jack to realize what was happening: one of the shapes was keeping the other contained above the slab.

 

"Now!" Isabella shouted.

 

John, Andy, and Gwen erupted from behind the bushes, taking aim at the guards. Ianto threw himself against Jack, pulling him to the ground. The shapes above the slab writhed frenziedly in each other's embrace as power built up around them.

 

"Noooooo!" Miss Dexter launched herself at the slab, making a grab for the Eye. Isabella slammed into her, but her hand connected with the pectoral, sending it flying off the marble and into the grass beyond. One of the shapes tried to follow it but was pulled back by the other. Howling, Miss Dexter waved the gun about wildly, keeping Isabella away from the ring that still lay on the slab.

 

She had -- everyone had -- forgotten Lucy. She seemed to snap out of her trance. With a joyful smile in Jack's direction, she grabbed at the ring, threw it on the floor, and stomped down on it.

 

"Nooooo!" The gunshot echoed loudly. Jack saw Lucy crumple, her neck, shoulder, and arm covered in blood. Miss Dexter pushed Isabella away and tried to run after the Eye.

 

"Ianto!"

 

Isabella's shout sent Ianto scrambling after the Eye. Remembering his reaction to the unpowered relic, Jack jumped up and went after him. He was too late.

 

As Ianto's hands closed around the pectoral, the power peaked with a teeth-rattling whine. The shapes above the marble slab seemed to expand, then contract. Jack saw Isabella reach towards one of them, tears in her eyes. A huge burst of red and gold light lit up the night like Christmas fireworks, and then darkness and silence descended on the plaza.

 

Ianto was on his knees, holding on to the shattered pieces of the pectoral. Jack could see the remains of the bas-relief carvings and the chain.

 

"Ianto! Are you all right?"

 

"I guess so."

 

Jack reached down to help him up. As he took Ianto's hand, the sleeve of his partner's jacket rode up. Jack froze, terror suddenly clenching in the pit of his stomach.

 

Around Ianto's wrist there was a bracelet about as wide as Jack's wrist strap. Two wide silver bands framed two bands of red-gold stone, which in their turn framed a narrow blood-red band. It had no clasp; Jack was sure Ianto would not be able to take it off.

 

"Well," Isabella said as she reached them, "my Lady did say it was his."

 

Ianto looked at both of them and smiled… and then, for the second time in three days, slid down in a dead faint at Jack's feet.


	9. Chapter 9

__

Jack rubbed his hands over his face, took a deep breath, gawped like a hooked fish, took another deep breath, then tried again.

"Doc, are you seriously telling me that Ianto has a TARDIS wrapped around his wrist?" His voice, which had started out calm and reasonable, climbed several decibels to a near-shout by the time he was done.

"A very old, tired one, Jack. It won't hurt him!" the Time Lord said defensively when Jack glared at him. "Functional TARDIS can become quite unhappy without a symbiotic relationship. In extreme cases they have been known to self-terminate. When Nethisi left this dimension, she wanted to prevent that from happening, so she transferred the link to Ianto."

Jack rubbed his face again. "I thought symbiotic links could only be made with Time Lords."

"Er… yes."

Jack repeated the gesture.

"You're going to strip your skin off if you keep doing that," the Doctor said brightly.

"Never mind my skin! Are you saying Ianto's a Time Lord?"

"No!" The Doctor looked momentarily flummoxed, then lit up again in his usual manic fashion. "I don't know exactly what your young man is, Jack, but we're going to have to keep a very close eye on him!"

 

 _She -- She! -- was a column of light perfumed with the scent of apples and lavender and resonating with the pure soft tone of a single organ note._

*Who are you?*

*I am the Last.*

*What happened to the others?*

*The Ones Who Assisted Us fought against a great evil. We judged the war just, and fought at their side. During the last battle, the enemy targeted the nurseries with chronospatial disruptors. The Metastructures were destroyed before the connection to the Eye of Harmony could be completed. Only I and my One survived the battle.*

*I am sorry.*

*Thank you.*

*What was it like, before?*

The single column of light before him multiplied into a hundred, a thousand, a million, in every color of the rainbow. A million scents blended into the most exquisite perfume he had ever smelled. The single organ note became a symphony of unimaginable complexity. Ianto could see great herds of TARDIS moving in and out of the Spacetime stream, which was not a stream at all, but something else, greater and deeper, and filled with Purpose. Then, slowly, the sound died down, and the lights dimmed, until the single column was left.

*You must be very lonely.*

*I have my One and his purpose is my purpose. His companions are amusing. I had no desire for more until Satellite Five.*

*Where Jack died and was resurrected?*

*Where the girl Rose changed the future.*

 

Jack looked up at the soft knock to see Isabella lounging against the door jamb. "How is he?"

"Still asleep. Martha says it's not a coma. More like he's resting after a huge exertion."

"Makes sense." She sat down on the other side of the bed. "When my Lady left she transferred her power over the Eye to him. Having that much energy pour into your mind all at once must be quite a shock."

"Did you know what would happen, Isabella?"

"Not the details. Nathisi was tired of her prison, Jack, but she did not want the Master loose on the Universe again. Once she spoke about the Year that Never Was" at Jack's start she nodded. "She would not explain, but whatever it was, it both scared her to death and enraged her. She was determined to stop him."

"And Ianto? Was he part of her plan all along?"

She nodded. "Now, I believe so. I would not have said it yesterday. I do know she was fascinated by him. When we met she prodded me to pursue our relationship. Not that I needed much prodding, but I thought she was… well, she's always been curious about mortals. Now, I think it was more than that."

"My Time Lord seems to be fascinated by him too." Jack laughed. "And what about you, Isabella? Now that Nethisi is gone, what will your family do?"

"Live like normal people, I suppose."

"After all these centuries, you wouldn't know how. You need something that will fill the space properly."

She looked at him, eyes twinkling. "Why, Jack. Are you by any chance recruiting?"

 

 _He sat in a field of coppery grass, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree with silvery leaves and sweet green fruit that dissolved like rain water on the tongue. He grieved for all that had been lost and rejoiced in all that could be. He wondered about himself and what he was becoming, but it did not preoccupy him. He wondered if it should._

*Why? It is a passing, nothing more.*

He turned his head to look at her properly. Today she had chosen to wear a human body.

*You look a little like Donna Noble.*

*I liked her. She had Potentiality.*

*Jack says she would die if she remembers.*

*He believes so because my One told him.* She sighed a very human sigh. *The Ones who Assisted Us could be very arrogant in their superiority. My One loves all his Companions but he does not look past their mortality. He is slowly beginning to perceive the Potentiality, but he is still young, and unlearning is most difficult.*

*Does everyone have Potentiality?*

*No. The One called in speech Nethisi believed that when the Evil Ones attacked the nursery, fragments of the Metastructures were flung through the Vortex to your planet. We are attracted to a certain kind of matrix codes that sometimes occur naturally in flesh-minds. Nethisi thought the fragments attach themselves to those codes when they find them. That Event would trigger the Potentiality.*

*So I have been carrying around a piece of a TARDIS in my mind all my life?*

*No. You have been waiting to be a TARDIS all your life.*

*Excuse me. I have been waiting to be a blue police call box all my life?*

She giggled like a school girl. "Do you think your reality-body matters? TARDIS are beings of Time and Space, at one with the Vortex. That is who you are, or will be.*

 

"Ianto. I don't know if you can hear me, but I want to tell you about Lucy. I never wanted any of you to know anything about the Year that Never Was. I didn't want it to touch any of you. Lucy. God, was there ever anyone so much sinned against than poor Lucy? He took her and he broke her, Ianto, into so many little pieces it's a wonder she ever managed to pull something back together.

When I first met her, she would… help him. Whatever he wanted to do to me. After a while, though, she started to stay away. One night, she showed up alone. He had beaten the crap out of her, because I had refused to beg. I hadn't known, he hadn't said anything! I started to cry. She put her arms around me and held me and she whispered, very quietly, that she wanted me to fight him every step of the way, that her pain didn't matter as long as she knew someone was fighting him. After that, she would come down to the boiler room every night she could. We would talk on and on about nothing at all, about roses and horses and other worlds… Sometimes she would just stand pressed against me and hold me until we both fell asleep standing up.

And then she did something magnificent. They were looking for you, for Torchwood Three. You had figured out that the whole Himalayas thing was a load of bollocks and had dropped out of sight. He had as many people as he could looking for you. She sabotaged them, Ianto. When I asked her how, all she said was that she knew what her best assets were. She kept them off you for three months. She was as much of a Torchwood heroine as Tosh. She's in a drawer now next to her. Lucy Cole. I don't even want his name to touch her.

Ianto. Please listen. I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying I couldn't go on without you but… it would be unbearably painful. I'm not ready to give you up yet. I don't care if I'm being selfish, but please come back. Come back… come back…

 

 _*What did Rose do?*_

They were sitting on the floor of her control room, playing dimensionally transcendental poker (chess was too easy). Ianto was losing, but not too badly.

*When she brought Jack back to life, she changed the Timelines in ways the Purpose had not intended.*

*Jack was meant to die?*

*No. He was meant to discover his Potentiality. But Rose was stronger than I expected and I could not override her desires. A cosmic accident, our Rose.*

*And now we have to change it back?*

*We can't. All we can do is make certain that both futures happen. It has already started. Before you, Jack's choices were made out of anger and loneliness. You changed that. Now, at some time in the future, Jack will choose, and if he does it right, both his lives will become stabilized within the Purpose.*

*And what will happen to me?*

*Now? Now you must forget.*

*Why?!*

*Because you are a flesh-child, and your mind cannot process all the necessary data at once. You must learn slowly, as a child does. Don't worry. Your Teacher will be with you. Go on. Jack is waiting.*

 

"…come back, come back, come back…"

Ianto carded his fingers through Jack's hair. "You daft bugger. I'm not going anywhere without you."


	10. Chapter 10

They lay in a tangle of sheets, sated and exhausted. Jack's head was tucked between Ianto's neck and shoulder. Every once in a while he would take a delicate sucking bite wherever he could reach. Ianto stroked up and down Jack's back with his left hand; his right was clasped in Jack's left and tucked under Jack's chin.

 

"You are definitely recovered," Jack purred. "In fact, you might be better than ever."

 

Ianto used their linked hands to tilt Jack's chin up. "You're not so bad yourself," he said, licking at his lover's lips until they parted. The kiss was unhurried, gentle, a satisfied culmination rather than a hungry beginning.

 

Finally they had to come up for air. They smiled at each other as they reshuffled a little before settling back contentedly.

 

"I forgot to ask you earlier," Jack said. "What did the Doc give you before he left?"

 

Ianto reached over to his bedside table and snatched up a small leather-bound book. "With his sense of humor I was terrified it was going to be a fifty-first century sex manual or something." He positioned it so Jack could see the spine. Embossed in gold on it was _Care and Feeding of TARDIS_.

 

"Well, it's a practical gift in any case." Jack stroked Ianto's wrist above the bracelet. "Do you get any sense of it at all?"

 

"Yes, but very faintly. It's more of a presence in the back of my head than anything else. The Doctor thinks it might never be more than that. He says this TARDIS is several thousand years older than his, and that makes it ancient even by TARDIS standards."

 

Jack looked at him speculatively. "Ianto, what time is it?"

 

"Nine forty-six and sixteen seconds," Ianto replied unthinkingly, then looked at Jack in shock. "What the hell?"

 

"A TARDIS is able to share some of its abilities if it chooses. One of them is perfect time sense, and the other is… tell me, Ianto, what would you say if I asked you to…" he continued in a guttural, click-filled language.

 

"I'd say you're getting even more avant-garde in your old… I understood what you were saying! I was hearing you say the words but I was also hearing the meaning. Perfectly separate but simultaneous."

 

"The TARDIS, the Doctor's TARDIS I mean, installed those little improvements in my head permanently. I guess yours has done the same thing to you."

 

"That's nice," Ianto chuckled. "You won't be able to swear in Roxicoricofallapatorian again when you're mad at me."

 

Jack made a face at him. "Spoilsport."

 

"And speaking of which, it's lunch and rugby with the guys today, in trade for girls' day at the spa tomorrow. You coming?"

 

"Can I go to the spa instead?" When Ianto swatted his arse Jack made a face. "What? Those sea salt body wraps Gwen and Martha were talking about sound fantastic!"

 

"Vain. Vain. Vain." Ianto chanted mockingly as he jumped out of bed. "I'm going to shower."

 

He heard Jack's phone ring as he walked into the bathroom. Ianto always thought of this particular room as Jack's own space. When they had bought the place Jack had contacted the best known – and most expensive – bathroom designer in Cardiff and they had happily torn the room down to the bare walls and started again. Ianto, who hadn't even known there were such folk as bathroom designers, stood by in bemusement as his partner immersed himself in the arcane subjects of chrome fittings, spa tubs, and indirect lighting.

 

It wasn't that Jack didn't take Ianto's taste into consideration. The place was decorated in Ianto's own favorite greens and browns and there was cleverly placed cabinetry that kept clutter to a minimum. Even the dirty-clothes bin was hidden behind elegant wood doors. Everything else, though, was a tribute to Jack's need for pampering.

 

A huge glassed-in shower dominated the room. It had several shower heads that would deliver perfectly heated water at any pressure desired to every part of the body. At the press of a button the whole thing turned into a sauna; there was even a bench at one end to lounge and indulge. Ianto got a bit hard just from remembering some of the more memorable times he had spent on that bench. Jack was very very good at indulging himself.

 

On the other side of the room were twin sinks with special lighting controls that could deliver anything from strong white light to let you see yourself clearly while shaving to a gentle soothing amber that did wonders for a hangover. The tub also had special lighting; Jack claimed a bathroom was no place for overhead bulbs. Ever the toilet, which looked more like a modern piece of furniture than a sanitary convenience, had its own lighting controls.

 

When Ianto had teased Jack about the bathroom, his partner had told him firmly that indoor plumbing was one of the great human cultural advances and he saw no reason to deprive himself.

 

"I grew up in a farming settlement in the middle of nowhere. Primitive doesn't even begin to describe it. Loos were tiny cubicles with a bench that had a hole in it over a conveyor belt that carried everything away to the waste recycling facility. Showers were strictly rationed to conserve water. The best time in the Boeshane was the rainy season. Everyone walked outside without a stitch the moment the first drops hit. It looked like a drug-induced orgy except people were soaping each other up instead of fucking. I like the idea of water on demand. Besides, by fifty-first century standards this is barely adequate."

 

Ianto had to admit that it had been easy to adjust to Jack's idea of barely adequate. Stepping into the shower he adjusted the shower heads to deliver a rhythmic massage to his shoulders and back. He poured a bit of the sinfully expensive liquid soap Jack insisted on buying him because "it smells just like you" on a washcloth (Egyptian cotton, thank you very much) and was soaping up when he heard Jack walk in.

 

"I forgot to tell you," Jack said as he examined his face in the mirror over one of the sinks, "that I ran into Mrs. Bolton the other day."

 

"You ran into Mrs. Bolton? How in the world did you manage that?"

 

"By the simple expedient of finding out where she was staying and going to visit," Jack said sheepishly. "I wanted to make sure she was all right."

 

"And is she?"

 

"Yeah. Turns out Davies left her a nice little inheritance, so financially she'll be fine. She did say she didn't know what to do with herself now that he wasn't around. Something about always doing for a nice gentleman and the devil making trouble for idle hands or something. Anyway. I hired her."

 

"You what?"

 

"I hired her. Now, before you say anything, you know we're both busy and I don't like having an impersonal cleaning service in the flat every few weeks and you end up doing all the work anyway and you shouldn't and besides Martha and Gwen could also use some help which Mrs. Bolton said she would be happy to oblige and…"

 

Ianto, who had been trying unsuccessfully for a while to interrupt, resorted to a high-pitched whistle. "Silence. That's much better. About Mrs. Bolton, I'm glad you hired her."

 

"You are?"

 

"Sure. Mrs. Bolton is a very nice lady who is also a first class cook. What's not to like? Besides, I have the feeling she knows how to keep secrets. If she finds out anything she shouldn't she won't go blabbing to her canasta club."

 

"Good, that's settled then." Jack stepped into the shower and crowded Ianto against the tile. "Because I have much more interesting things to do than to discuss our new housekeeper."

 

He put his hands on the wall on either side of Ianto's head and pressed in with his hips. Ianto moaned as he felt Jack's cock brush against his.

 

"Oh, yeah," Jack whispered, rocking his hips slightly. "Have I told you how much… yeah, just like that… I love… yeah… that sound?"

 

Ianto grabbed at Jack's neck with both hands and pulled him into a ferocious kiss. They sucked and bit at each other, egging each other on to the edge of violence, then back, easing into a passionate tangle of lips and tongues until they were gasping for air.

 

"If we don't slow this down," Ianto said "it won't last very long, and I have plans."

"Plans?" Jack grinned.

 

"Yes, plans, Captain Harkness." Ianto took a soft bite at Jack's chin. "So who was on the phone?"

 

Jack, busy running his fingers along the crack of Ianto's arse and dipping down to his balls, didn't answer until Ianto grabbed his head, forcing Jack to look at him, and mouthed telephone. "Oh.Yeah. Telephone. It was John. He asked if he could take some time off. I said yes."

 

"John? What did he want time off for?"

 

"Isabella has invited him to Egypt."

 

Ianto dropped his hands as if he'd been burned. "John is going… Isabella? Isabella has invited John… what?"

 

Jack laughed out loud at his partner's befuddlement. "Yes. Isabella. John. Egypt."

 

"Jack… but…what the…" Ianto was incoherent. "But he…"

 

Jack pushed Ianto back against the tile, and this time used his whole body to hold him in place. "Ianto. You have to stop worrying about John. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."


End file.
